Awakening (1)

Today's the day. Finally. I finally get superpowers--Is what you're expecting me to think, isn't it?! Well, you'd be kinda right but also kinda wrong. After all, it isn't every day you awaken the powers bestowed to you via alien genetics and comic book logic. Neither is it every day that awakening these powers will lead to the death of Earth's greatest superhero team.

A real bummer, honestly.

I think all this but I don't even know if I'm actually gonna awaken my powers. Still, the attack on the White House by the Mauler Twins happened, had a half-assed fight with Todd--I'm pretty sure that's his name--when he was getting creepy with Amber--I'm pretty sure that's her name--and now I'm at work.

I had no intention to get with that girl though. She's hot, don't get me wrong, but Jesus...we'd never mix well. Only reason her and the original Mark got along so well is because he was a chronic virgin and he got so desperate for coochie he put up with her sanctimonious crap.

At the end of the day, however, I had to make the say as close to the original as possible. Even if I didn't get my ass beat like in the original, I still got punched by Todd, Amber still took her chance and kicked him in the nads when he was dazed from a meaty hook to the face. I still spoke to Will, told him I was going to work, I still went to work--yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah.

I'm just yammering on because of anxiety, honestly. You know how nerve-wracking it is to live in a house with Omni-Man? He's my dad and all, courtesy of me merging completely with the original Mark, and I do love him...but I also know he's gonna go batshit insane sooner rather than later. And he's not even the worst Viltrumite to deal with. So, even if my powers awakening means he'll start his plan, well I've gotta have my insurances.

And my first bit of insurance is my powers awakening.

But first, a little bit about me. I'm Mark Grayson but I'm also Marc Smith, a dude from Earth who died and woke up merged with the son of Omni-Man. I was a pretty normal 18-year-old but considering how well I took my death and subsequent transmigration and merging, I've been reevaluating that statement. I'm obviously not *as* normal as I thought I was.

I mean, what normal teenager could just...I don't know, roll with the punches like that? I sure as hell didn't think I'd be able to. Until I did. First thing I did when I woke up in this body seven months ago, was enroll myself at a gym and MMA classes.

Not the most normal reaction. Or at least not the first thing someone would do. A normal person would've probably had a mental breakdown or cried or just gone completely catatonic from shock. You know, the shock of discovering that your dad has been lying to you for your entire life and is actually a planet conqueror and not some benevolent intergalactic charity worker. You know, that sorta stuff.

Still, I've gotta be thankful for whatever helped me keep it together. I guess it was the merger of two souls. Double the soul strength, double the mental fortitude...or something. Who knows.

There is one thing I'm sure is because of two souls being merged together, however. My body.

I had a theory but it was purely hypothetical. If two souls merge, what type of effect would that have on a body? What is the body in relation to the soul? My theory is that the body is a representation of the soul, in a physical sense. A sort of tangible tool for the soul and mind. With two souls merged together, it would make sense if my soul's quantity was higher, if not's it's quality. As such, when I woke up and my souls merged, my body began to change. It could be one of those mythical transmigration cheats but if it was, it was pretty underwhelming.

My height went from a respectable 5'11" to a very respectable 6'3" and my entire body began to get stronger. At first I thought I'd awakened my powers quicker because of the merge but I wasn't a superhuman. Just very good for a Human. Sort of like two souls becoming one had kickstarted some sort of qualitative change in my body. Athleticism went through the roof, stamina and durability too. Other than that, it was just cosmetic changes. Slightly more handsome, eyes went from a normal brown to a more golden-brown color. Dick and balls got bigger too--which is pretty cool I guess. Wasn't really needed though. Original Mark was genuinely packing heat.

Ahem. Anyway, this sudden change was a positive. My seven months in the gym and at my MMA classes were...very, very well spent. I packed on contractile tissue like a dude possessed by the spirit of Ronnie Coleman. It was to the point where I had to mind my muscle mass gain or I'd end up actually looking like Mr. Olympia. After training for specific results - balancing mass and keeping myself conditioned and lean - now I look like Chris Hemsworth at his best.

Without doing any illicit substances either, so it's a win-win really.

The changes obviously hadn't escaped my parents notice. But dear ol' dad had just looked proud at the man I was growing to be while mom just joked about having to beat girl's off with a stick. Dad did wonder why I was getting MMA classes though. A quick explanation that I wanted to be ready when I awoke my powers 'placated' him and he gave me a stiff smile and nod before the subject was dropped.

I wasn't even lying either. It WAS so I was ready when I got my powers. Also so I was ready for when I took his training on the chin, because you'd have to be braindead to think I wasn't gonna take every advantage I could get.

In the end, here I was. Carrying two trash bags and taking them out to the dumpster. My heart was thumping in my chest like a dude on his first date--no, no, like a dude on a date with a super model. A super model who happened to actually be into him.

I was beyond anxious. I'd nearly gone full circle and gone back to being calm. Nearly. Right now I felt like I was about to pass out.

Arms thick with muscle held up the trash bags as I stood in front of the dumpster. Yep, I still felt their weight. Didn't feel like I could throw them to England yet. For a second I thought I'd been given the universe worst handicap and had been deprived of my powers or that I wasn't going to awaken them because of my actions or because of my soul merger--

Stopping my thoughts, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Putting the bags down, I opened my eyes and lifted the lid of the dumpster. Powers or not, I couldn't live my life worrying about what was gonna happen. Foreknowledge is voided as soon as you get it. The future changes as soon as you know it. The butterfly effect is a real bitch, after all. So all my foreknowledge is useless...at least when it comes to changing the future. I still know more than 99% of people on Earth. I can still use it to prepare myself.

All I need to do is put this trash in the dumpster. If I don't awaken my powers, it'd be a bummer but not the immediate end of my world. I could always go a different direction. Somehow warn the Guardians and Cecil about my dad. About Viltrumites. Can always try and steal another person's superpower bestowal or whatever.

With that thought, I felt my anxiety lessen a few notches. It didn't disappear but neither were my legs numb and feeling like they could barely support my weight.

I took a deep breath of air, ignoring the smell of garbage, before exhaling and picking up the trash bags again. The first one went in easily enough and I felt my anxiety threaten to burst forth again but I kept control of myself and lifted the second and threw it with the aim of getting it in the dumpster.

My legs nearly gave out as it went flying into the air, up and up and up into the sky. A smile carved it's way across my face, previous anxiety draining out of me like water out of a hole-filled bucket. I put my hands and arms straight up into the air, "Yes!" I yelled, shaking from the joy as I watched the trash bag fly. I could see it clearly, even with how far away it was, "YES!" I yelled even louder.

Carefree laughter burst from my lips. I pushed aside any thoughts of what this meant, what it signaled was coming and every other negative thought in my head.

Because I had superpowers.

I could think about all the bad shit later because right now, I had superpowers and I got to feel the abundant joy that came with that fact.

Just to bask in that notion a little longer, I stepped forward and placed a hand on the dumpster. Carefully, so as to not break it, I gripped the metal and lifted. It left the floor instantly, held aloft by my hand and arm...it felt like nothing. The metal itself felt like putty, only needing the barest amount of strength to warp out of shape. Smiling, I put the dumpster down and then felt the smile fall off my face.

There's very little I could do about the Guardians incoming death. Best I could do is try and stop dad but what use could I be? I don't know how to use my powers effectively yet. Seven months of MMA classes wouldn't cut it against Omni-Man who had twenty years as a superhero under his belt and who knows how many centuries under his belt as a world conquering soldier. I was good, great even, for someone who'd been learning for under a year but that was it.

It wouldn't cut it. So I couldn't help. Maybe I could warn them but would they believe me? Possibly. They'd at least be more ready than they originally were. But the more than likely scenario is they brush off the warning and try to take me in for questioning, asking me why I was trying to set up my dad.

Then he'd find out. It'd kickstart his plans way earlier. He'd go straight for genocide. He'd wipe out most people on Earth who hold power.

More death, then. Less death if I stand aside.

I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth before letting it go and sighing. I wanted to be a good man. A hero. But the cosmos just wasn't gonna let it happen, was it? Then it was settled. At the end of the day, I couldn't stop the Guardians of the Globe from being killed. But I could get strong enough to stop Omni-Man from beating my ass across Chicago and causing thousands upon thousands of deaths.

My jaw locked up at the thought. Anger burned in my gut alongside feelings of betrayal. But I kept them smothered and restrained. Couldn't let it out now. But I would. And when I did, I'd give dad much more than a fucking nosebleed.

. . .

Looking over the back yard from where I was standing on the porch, I took a deep breath before stepping off it. Most of a Viltrumite's powers come naturally at the start. Like breathing or blinking. It's only when you think about it that you have to manually do it. Like those annoying ass videos that say 'DiD yOu kNoW YoU WerEn'T tHiNKing aBouT BreAtHinG UnTil nOW?', flying is a reflexive thing. Or at least that's what my POS dad says anyway.

Yeah, I despise his decisions. Ones he hasn't made yet but ones I know he *will* make. But I don't--can't despise him. I love him and I hate him. It's weird. Like two warring sides in my mind. It took waaay too much control to not snap at him whenever he spoke earlier when we were having a family dinner.

And I did need to control it. I had to. I wasn't ready for a confrontation. I don't think I'll ever be ready, but at least I can be more ready than I am now. Need to get as much practice as possible...which is why I didn't tell him I'd got my powers. I needed to get a hang on them and then I can tell him, then I can get trained by him.

I couldn't pussy out on the training either. Viltrumites grow from pressure, from injuries, from real fighting and he was the only person I could get that from. Safely and without putting anyone else at risk. For now, anyway.

Right now, however, I needed to do some flight practice.

With my mind as distracted as I could make it, I hoped with everything I had that I'd fly as I fully walked off the edge of the porch...and I was floating. "Huh," I intoned with a dull voice before cracking a smile, "Nice," I said and I was content just floating there. Unlike the original Mark would've, I didn't just dart up into the air. No, I needed to figure out the hardest part about flying: Landing.

I stayed there, just hovering in mid-air before I closed my eyes and tried to figure out what was different between flying and not-flying. What felt off--or better put, strained? It wasn't hard to figure out the slight pressure behind my ears was because of my flying.

Opening my eyes, but still concentrating on the pressure, I looked down at the ground. Maybe a fifteen, sixteen foot drop. Nowhere near high enough to hurt...and yet Human-raised sensibilities reared their ugly heads when I thought about relaxing and dropping. Even if that drop wouldn't kill a human, some part of my mind shrieked at the thought of falling. Not even afraid of heights, so I don't know what that's all about.

Shaking my head, I decided to not look down and just inhaled and exhaled all slow like. I needed to relax, to siphon off the pressure behind my ears or whatever organ Viltrumites have next to their ears that allows for flight. Crazy comic book alien logic, man.

Without any warning, I dropped and my stomach did flips before my foot hit grass and my ass hit the patio slabs right next to it. It didn't hurt but it was surprising, "Son of a bitch," I cursed before standing up and brushing off my feet with a hand. "Okay, second attempt," I muttered before trying the opposite this time; building pressure.

It came much easier than releasing the pressure and slowly but surely, I lifted off the ground before rising back to where I was hovering before. Luckily, stopping the pressure from building was easy so I just stopped climbing. Last thing I wanted was to nearly hit a plane or go high enough that I'd pass out. Needed to get it under control before I even attempt high-altitude flight. The other me was a real dumbass--I get he was excited but Jesus, Mark. We're not *that* dumb.

The next two-ish hours were spent like that. Rising, falling, sometimes suddenly and others with much more control. It was like trying to figure out the perfect amount of distance to rotate a faucet tap, where your only choices seemed to be a dribble of water or fire hose-level pressure.

But it was getting better. Way better, actually. I could control altitude a little now. Not at max speed or anything even close, I was still basically in first gear, but I could definitely give the fastest cars a run for their money. So not fast at all by this world's standards. Or even by fighter jet standards. Still, it was progress.

And progress was sweeter than sex. Well, not really. But it was definitely on the level of a handjob off a really hot woman.

What was much harder was other directions other than up and down. I was figuring out what dad meant when he said Viltrumite's can create their own leverage. Pressing off the air around me was a novel experience but I knew I should be able to change direction without that.

I rose above the house and kept myself hovering as I willed myself to move forward. It followed the same process as going up but it was like concentrating on two things - keeping myself afloat and then moving forward. Weird but not impossible to do. I decided I could go for a test drive and rose higher and higher, picking up a little speed as I used the weird pressure to maneuver myself horizontally.

Shooting through the air at hundreds of miles an hour was an experience that was hard to put into words. But if I had to...Freedom. It felt like freedom. True, unfettered and inexplicable freedom.

Physical space and gravity felt more like a suggestion as I flew up above the suburbs where I lived and looked down over it. Some people were still up despite the early morning hours and the view was genuinely beautiful. Chicago was lit up like a Christmas tree too. Looking up, I felt like I was a kid trying to cross the street as I looked left, right and everywhere for planes. When I didn't see any, I shot up but at a quicker speed.

The air around me shook before snapping outward in a shockwave, followed by a distant boom as I broke the sound barrier. I smiled at the sensation as I broke through the clouds. Slowly siphoning off the speed, I slowed and came to a stop before lowering myself to just above the clouds.

I couldn't help but think that I was getting a hang of flight much quicker than I expected. I was in for the long haul and prepared for many crashes...but it felt easy. To an extent. Still need practice to go at truly fast speeds but the fact I can even handle sound barrier breaking speeds is a surprise. I wonder if this is another perk of having a stronger soul? Wouldn't surprise me. But I am surprised it's helping so much. Everything in my head from the merger made me think it'd take weeks to get to this level.

But apparently not.

Taking one last look at the sky above, the stars spread across a dark canvas, I shook my head and began my descent. Now I had to find my way back home...Maybe I was kinda dumb.